


Proserpina

by MissSunFlower94



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSunFlower94/pseuds/MissSunFlower94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lesson in pissing off your queen (Don't Do It)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proserpina

**Author's Note:**

> The title is based on the fact that I got the idea for this fic off of a comic about Hades and Persephone plus my knowledge that in Roman times Persephone or Proserpina was a terrifying goddess that you wanted to stay on the good side of.

It was a relief when Marianne entered his throne room that evening, as Bog had been no good to anyone most of the afternoon – well, more so than usual. 

 She noticed, too. Unsurprising, of course; the two had been seeing each other for almost six months, and usually managed to spend at least some portion of everyday in each other’s company. She had seen him at every mood. Plus, given the day, she had certainly expected it. 

“You’re in poor humor,” she said cheerfully, perching on the arm of his throne. Bog growled low in the back of his throat and grabbed for her, pulling her completely onto his lap. She huffed out a laugh. “ _Very_  poor humor. Was Court Day so awful?” 

Yes, it had been Court Day – a misnamed title as the process was made up of two all-day meetings, which of late had been his least favorite days of every month. He’d never been particularly fond of it to begin with; when he had to listen to assembly after assembly of goblins inform him of every tiny problem – most of which were by no means his jurisdiction to solve or even have any part in. If nothing else it was just annoying having to repeat himself over and over again. He had to speak more polite and more formal and just more than he was used to, and over all by the end of the day Bog usually had half a mind of just letting the whole kingdom collapse into anarchy so he could get some peace. 

Of course, he never would. He was too prideful for that. He would be the good, and just, and firm, and fearsome king that his people needed. Even if he drove himself half out of his mind in the process. 

 But since his relationship with the heir to the throne of the fairies had begun, the idea was getting more and more tempting. 

 “More so than usual,” was all he told her, refusing to elaborate. Marianne made a small  _tsk_  noise and reached up, stroking his jaw. Bog tried to keep his thundercloud expression, but she knew him too well – knew all his sweet spots and how to exploit them. All tension slowly seeped out of him and he let his eyes shut. 

“Tell me about it?” She suggested softly. 

All at once the tension returned and his eyes flew open. “Not a chance.” 

 She sat back, looking startled and then cross. “Oh? Why not – you’ve told me about Court Day every other time. I certainly recall how frustrated you were last month. You ranted for a good hour, and we sparred for another hour on top of it just to get you calm again.” She perked up a little again. “We could skip the rant and go straight to sparring if you want.” 

 In a better mood, Bog would have smiled. Less worked up, he might have felt flustered at the reminder of court from the month previous; Marianne had graciously left out what they had gone on to do  _after_  their hour-long sparring match – what he was perfectly aware she was including in her proposal of ‘ _going straight to it_ ’. As it were, he said nothing, just leaning his head back so it hit the back of his throne with a loud thump. He registered Marianne’s movement and tightened his grip on her waist before she could stand up and leave him. 

She made a frustrated growl. “Well if you don’t want to talk and you don’t want to fight, I really don’t see what good I’m doing you here.” 

He opened one eye, allowing a smile to turn a corner of his mouth. “You’re here,” he said simply. 

She groaned again. “For someone who hates romance, you can be downright disgusting, did you know that?” She was blushing. It pleased him enormously. “Really, though,” she pressed. “What did they say about us this time that was so terrible you can’t even tell me?” 

He lifted his head now, startled. “How did ye- I mean, what makes you think it was about  _us_?” 

Marianne raised an eyebrow. “Nothing else gets you this way, Bog. We both know it, so will you tell me or will I have to beat it out of you?” She raised one dainty fist and shook it and Bog knew perfectly well that she meant every word. 

He raised a hand in surrender and she smiled in triumph. Looking away from her, equal parts uncomfortable and angry, he said, “It ah- it wasn’t actually about… us. This time.” 

“Oh?”

“It was about you… specifically.” 

“…Oh?” She said again, in a very different voice. For a moment she was still and then she settled back against him and said in too-sweet tones. “And what… specifically, did your subjects say about me?”

 He rubbed the back of his neck. “It was, the assembly from the east – they come around once every year or so-“ he waved a hand, brushing it aside. “They’re constantly interested in expanding eastward with disregard to how long it’s taken to get the current border as secure and well placed as it is an’ the effort it would take-“ 

“Bog,” Marianne said, smiling a little. She was usually interested in learning about his kingdom, but it appeared in this moment she could not be distracted. 

“Right. Well- they don’t – that is, they don’t- er- interact with fairies so much… an’ news of our- ah- situation was still news to them an’-“

“Bog.” 

He coughed. “They made a rather crude suggestion about getting their way had they been holding court with you instead – their sweet little fairy Queen.” 

Marianne was very, very still in his hold. “ _Oh_ ,” she said. She moved and he released her, letting her land gracefully on the floor in front of him and pace a few steps. 

“I told them exactly where they could shove that idea,” he added unhelpfully. 

She was quiet for a long time, and he waited for her enraged scream that he was so used to. Instead she stayed silent and when she spoke her voice was even. 

“Okay,” she said. 

“Okay?” 

“I can do that.” 

“You can do what?” 

“See them. Tomorrow, right?” 

“Yes, it- I-“ his brain caught up with him. “Wait, no. Marianne, you can’t-“ 

She turned to him, all wickedness in her wide eyes and demure smile. “Why not? They asked if they could speak with me, as their Queen, shouldn’t we give them that?” 

“Marianne-“ 

“They want to see what favors their Queen would give them. It’s only fair that they see first hand. Wouldn’t you say?” 

Bog sat back for a moment and observed her. She was still smiling. She looked positively gleeful in her viciousness and her thinly veiled threats. He had expected her to want to rip them apart, to – oh, how had she put it when they first met? – have their heads on sticks. But she was more tactful than that, it appeared, more fierce and utterly terrifying. His subjects were used to his anger, knew how to deal with it and how to appease it when roused. 

Perhaps they needed to learn that he wasn’t the one they needed to worry about anymore. 

Slowly, as these thoughts turned through his mind, he let a large grin spread on his face, neither warm nor friendly, all sharp fangs visible. Marianne’s smile only grew. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 “I expect you to return the favor someday,” she told him, blithely, the next night, as she lay, breathless, beside him in his bed. It came as a surprise to neither of them that this is where they had ended up. 

She had returned, whistling something cheery and light hearted and when asked how it went had simply said. “I don’t think they’ll be coming back anytime soon. And if they do, they’ll pray that  _you’re_  the one they speak to.” Followed immediately and casually by, “I’m hungry. Have you eaten yet?” 

Bog was left following her, terrified and aroused. 

Presently, he asked, “What do you mean?” in regards to her comment.

“I have plenty of old conservative fools on my side of the primroses that could use a good scare. They’re too used to me, have been in the court since before I had my wings, you know. Let’s see how they handle you.” 

He chuckled. “A fair trade, I suppose. Time and place, tough girl, and I’ll be there.” 

She beamed, then settled herself closer to him and sighed in pure and complete satisfaction. 

Yes, they’d have to do this more often.


End file.
